


The Emperors New Clothes

by twistedrunes



Series: George [3]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Animal Death, Drinking, F/M, Gambling, Gen, Guns, Hunting, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, Other, Sexual Humor, Shooting Guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 07:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: The first of the guns and George's new clothes arrive. Tommy invites George to hunt a stag with them, asking George to help Finn and John with their shooting. George and John have a competition to see who's the best shot.





	The Emperors New Clothes

Forty boxes of rifles are piled around your workroom. It's 8:15 on Monday morning and you have just finished unloading the boxes of rifles. You spend the next week, cleaning, checking and repairing crates and crates of rifles. You don’t see Tommy all week, but you’re happy enough to go about your work without his input. On Friday afternoon, your new suits are delivered to the factory. Except it's not just suits, you also have work clothes and more casual attire. You unpack the parcels the delivery boy has left at your workstation at the end of the day, marvelling at the workmanship. 

“Do you like them?” Tommy asks, behind you.

“Yes.” You turn to face him, leaning back against the workbench, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “How much do I owe you?”

Tommy scowls “You don’t owe me anything. This” he waves a hand vaguely at the boxes of rifles piled in your workshop “was a good deal for us. So think of it as a bonus.” You shrug, a smirk crossing your lips as you wonder how many other employees received their bonuses in clothing. Tommy notices and moves to stand next to you, feeling the cloth between his fingers with his back to the door “Something funny George?” He asks quietly.

You turn so you are looking at him side on, hip resting against the table “No, Mr Shelby. I was just wondering who else at Shelby Company Limited gets their bonuses in clothing.” You speak quietly, barely audible over the noises from the factory.

Tommy shakes his head, spreading his hands on the table “Anyway, you will need to bring these,” he holds up the leg of a pair of work pants between two long fingers “this weekend.”

You drop your head to the side trying to see Tommy’s face “Where?”

“We’re going to kill a stag. I thought you could help Finn with his shooting. John too.” He says dryly, turning to face you. You grin at his slur on his brother. Tommy’s face is blank as he continues “Bring a couple of these with you.” He again waved vaguely at the boxes again before stalking out again.

\---------------

“Michael?” you ask on the drive down to Warwickshire.

“Hmm?” he asks taking his eyes from the road for a moment to look across at you.

“Can you teach me to drive?” 

Michael pulls the car over to the side of the road and glances back at Finn in the back seat. Finn shrugs. “All right,” Michael says opening the door and walking around to your side of the car. You sit watching him surprised that he agreed so easily. “First lesson,” Michael says, hand on the door handle “you need to sit on the side with the steering wheel.” He waves his hand, shooing you across the front seat. The two of you look at each other and burst out laughing.

After a few rough starts and a slightly bumpy ride you arrive. “About fucking time,” Arthur says coming out to meet the car. Seeing you behind the wheel, he slaps his hand over his face, turns and walks back into the house. You and Michael both look at each other with a shrug, climbing out and pulling the crate of rifles from the boot. Arthur appears again and hands Michael and Finn a glass of whiskey each. “For your nerves.” He says solemnly.

Michael and Finn both swallow it in one. All three stand grinning at you like idiots

You ignore them all “Where do you want this?” you ask.

“Round the back, in the caravan,” Arthur instructs.

Tommy is already in one of the caravans with Charlie. He nods his head towards the second one, and John helps you put the crate in the back. He holds his hand out to help you in. “George.” Tommy calls “You’ll ride with me.” You raise your eyebrows at John, silently questioning and John just shrugs. You walk over to the caravan with Tommy and Charlie. You pull yourself up and sit on the front seat, as close to the edge and as far from Tommy as possible. As soon as you’re settled Tommy clicks his tongue and the horse moves off. Charlie snuggles down in the back and is soon asleep. You look down on him, you weren’t much older than him when your own mother died. You wonder if you slept as peacefully. You absently pull the blanket up to cover him, before turning your attention to the passing scenery.

“You don’t talk much do you?” Tommy says suddenly.

“Huh?” You nearly fall off the seat with the shock, you stare at him, mouth open, and finally, you burst out laughing. Tommy snorts huffily and lights a cigarette, watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting. You manage to compose yourself. He raises an eyebrow at you questioningly “Well you’re not exactly a known conversationalist yourself Mr Shelby.”

Tommy nods and leans back to check on Charlie, you notice the dark shadows around his eyes, as he brushes blonde locks back from the boy’s forehead. You continue on in silence.

“It’s safer.” You reply after a few minutes.

“Mm.” Tommy nods in agreement.  

\---------------

You spend the afternoon helping Finn practice his shooting, John having refused your offer with a definitive “Fuck off.” Charlie and Tommy are down at the river. Michael, John and Arthur are seated behind the two of you, drinking and offering their own helpful suggestions to Finn.

You lie next to Finn on the grass, shoulder to shoulder, talking him quietly through the finer points. He picks things up quickly, and you get a sense of pride as he hits the rough target you chopped into a fallen log consistently. After John makes a particularly asinine comment you jump to your feet and grab another rifle out of the back of the caravan. You drop it at John’s feet. “We’ll start at fifty yards and work back twenty yards at a time. First to miss owes the other a bottle of whiskey.” You say.

John shakes his head “Nah, Polly and Tommy don’t like Finn gambling.”

“Not Finn.” You say calmly a smile growing. John’s face falls as he realises he’s fallen into your trap. “Me.” You clarify for him.

John turns to Michael and Arthur shaking his head looking for support. “Sounds fair,” Arthur says. Michael nods in agreement. Finn jumps to his feet, grabbing two potatoes from the pile next to the fire waiting for that evening’s meal, and places them on top of a stump.

“Gentlemen first.” You say, standing aside indicating John should take the first shot.

John looks around him, realising he doesn’t have much choice he snatches the gun up and stomps over to Finn and takes a shot. The potato on the left spins and falls off the stump. Finn runs out and picks it up, holding it above his head, you can see a gouge out of the top side “Good” Finn yells, before dropping it and running back to the group.

“Just” you hear Michael mutter behind you.

John swaggers back to you. You smile pleasantly before walking to where he had been standing. You take aim quickly and fire. The potato explodes. Finn, Michael and Arthur cheer. Finn rushes over grabs two more potatoes and the crate the rifles had been in, pacing out seventy yards he sets up again. John sets himself again taking more care this time he shoots and misses. The others send up another shout. John scowls as you come to stand next to him. You raise the gun to your shoulder and whisper quietly “Let me show you how to do it eh’ love?” As his face screws up in frustration you shoot. You don’t even look as the other three cheer loudly.

“Jesus” Finn cries running up to you “How far can you shoot?”

You shrug “Don’t know. Never tried.”

“The fuck?” Arthur cries throwing another potato at Finn. “A hundred yards lad.” He instructs. Finn runs off and sets up, moving quickly to the side. Arthur gives you a nod, and you step up taking the shot. The potato explodes again. Arthur raises his eyebrows at you, you shrug. Michael grabs handfuls of potatoes shoving them into his pockets as he strides out to Finn, who is already moving the crate back further. Michael throws him another potato, and they both move well back. You shoot, and again the potato explodes. Arthur slaps you on the shoulder while waving Michael and Finn further back.

“Where the fuck are all my potatoes?” Tommy growls from behind you.

“Fucking George is shooting them all,” John replies.

You turn smiling weakly, Tommy is holding Charlie in his arms, looking past you to Finn and Michael. “Over there?” He asks looking back at you. You nod.

“Hasn’t missed yet,” Arthur says quietly moving to Tommy’s side.

“I won’t be able to get any further, there’s too much movement from my arm, and I’m too low.” You explain with a shrug.

Tommy raises his arm, drawing Michael and Finn’s attention and waves towards the caravans. “Go back another 50 yards, behind the caravan.” He calls to them. Lowering his voice, he turns to you “Come on.” He leads you to the back of the caravan and drops the tailgate. You hand your gun to Arthur and climb in the back, laying on your stomach. You sit back up and wave Michael and Finn across further. Arthur hands you the gun, and you lay down again and set up. You allow your eyes to close for a moment and calm your breathing. You fire again, and again the potato explodes. You hear Charlie clap his hands excitedly. “Back you go,” Tommy yells.

You sit up and watch them move back. Once they are set, you lie down again. You sit up again “It’s no good I can see the difference between the potato and the crate.” You say. Tommy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a scope, placing it in front of you. You grin and attach the scope before you settle again. You fire, and the potato explodes. Charlie, Arthur, Finn and Michael all clap excitedly.

Finn and Michael run back in “No more potatoes” Michael calls grinning widely.

“Right then.” Tommy said putting Charlie down “Someone better go get some more.” He says.

“I think John should go,” Finn puffs “he needs to buy George a bottle of whiskey.” Arthur and Michael cackle.

\----------------

You’d been expecting more people you realise after dinner as you all settle around the fire playing cards. “Could have done with someone like George in France, hey Tommy?” Michael says.

“Mm.” Tommy agrees, rubbing Charlie’s back as he dozes on his lap.

You concentrate on your cards. “Two,” you say to John throwing your cards in the pot.

Tommy grunts folding his cards and discarding them. He stands “Time for Charlie to go to bed.” He comments leaving the circle.

You grin at John “Looks like it’s just you and me again kid.” You goad him, throwing a five-pound note between you.

“Not this time.” He crows spreading his cards in front of him “Four Queens.” He starts pulling the pot towards himself.

You nod and rub your hand over your mouth to hide the smile, tugging your lip between your thumb and forefinger “Straight flush.” You say quietly.

“Fuck no!” John bellows.

Finn leans over your shoulder checking your cards “Yup. Straight flush.” He confirms.

“Jesus. We should have left you at home with the other women!” John groans.

Suddenly everything is quiet. In a heartbeat Arthur’s hand slaps John up the back of the head, knocking his cap off. Tommy’s voice comes out of the darkness, flat and calm. “Shelby Company Limited does not employ women on its assembly line.”

“Sorry, Tommy,” John says screwing his cap up between his hands.

“Not me you need to apologise to,” Tommy says stepping back into the light of the fire, hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

“Sorry, George,” John says to you.

“All in jest. No offence taken” You say lightly.

Tommy nods and turns away again “Night all.” He says walking back to the caravan.

 The five of you discard your cards and settle around the fire. All absorbed in your thoughts “Ah boys there were some good times in France.” Arthur says fondly

“Like what?” Finn asks keenly, propping himself up on his elbows.

“The shows were a fine thing weren’t they?” Arthur says taking another shot of whiskey.

“The can-can” John grins.

“Odette and Georgette.” Arthur sighs.

You notice Michael and John smiling too. “And?” Finn cries in exasperation.

“Two women.” John begins. “One dressed as a man.”

“And well,” Arthur cleared his throat “they would pleasure each other.” You hang your head back, trying not to laugh. “Just beautiful it was, mouths buried in each other’s cunnies, fingers fucking each other with abandon.” 

John and Arthur sigh in unison.

Unable to hold yourself back any longer you snort. You look up to four horrified faces. You take a long sip of whiskey and lick your lips slowly enjoying their discomfort.

“Fuck,” Arthur swears, rubbing his hand over his face. “We didn’t mean,” 

“Not you.” John cries.

“Really? Not me?” You ask your eyes looking each man in the eye in turn. The four men shuffle uncomfortably. “Probably a good thing you didn’t leave me behind hey John?” You tease “Your wife may have found out there’s something else I’m better at than you.” You say rolling your head back, moaning softly as your eyes close, you stick your tongue out stiffly, flicking the tip through the air like a snake.

“Jesus.” Finn chokes as Michael spits a mouthful of whiskey into the fire causing it to flare. In the extra light you notice Tommy leaning against the side of the caravan, cigarette held aloft between his fingers and a broad smile on his face. Fuck you think to yourself, the man does actually smile.

“Fuck me.” You hear Arthur groan.

“On that note gentlemen. I think I’ll retire. You don’t mind if I take the other caravan do you?” You ask before walking casually to the spare caravan, hands in pockets whistling.  

\---------------

“George.” Someone whispers loudly, you open one eye, it’s Finn. “Tommy said I can go shooting with you, to get the stag.” He says excitedly, you notice Michael sprawled out behind him, snoring lightly.

The thought crosses your mind that Finn looks remarkably like a puppy. “Right.” You say rubbing your hand over your face, resisting the temptation to scratch him behind his ear. “Go pack up two rifles and ammunition, and I’ll be right out.” You instruct. Finn is out of the caravan in a second, feet pounding against the earth as he runs to do your bidding. You stretch, groaning at the stiffness in your back.

You sit up lighting a cigarette before slipping out of the back of the caravan. It’s barely dawn, and a heavy mist hangs in the air. You don’t notice Tommy and Charlie until you are next to them at the fire. “Morning.” You greet them.

“'Orge.” Charlie squeaks, his little arms wrapping around your leg. You look over at Tommy who only shrugs. You squat down, bringing yourself to eye level with the little boy “Morning Charlie.” You say earnestly. He kisses your cheek. You can’t help but smile.

“Ready George?” Finn asks appearing next to you.

“Anyone else coming?” You ask.

“No,” Finn says a smile lighting up his face. 

“Alright then, let’s go.” You drag yourself to your feet. “Bye Charlie.” You say waving at him.

Tommy scoops Charlie up into his arms “Say bye George, bye Finn.” He says

“Bye Finn, bye ‘Orge,” Charlie repeats waving wildly. As you go deeper into the mist, you hear Tommy chuckle as Charlie calls out after you “‘Orge go bang.” He has a nice laugh you decide.

\---------------

Finn continues to be a quick study and bagged a small buck in the first ninety minutes, with a clean shot through the heart. Between the two of you, you quickly gut it and head back to camp. Finn, carrying the buck over his shoulders was particularly quiet. “You right with that?” You ask him attempting to start a conversation.

“I’ve got it.” He says defensively adjusting the beast slightly, watching his back you note that he will be a man faster than any of the other men in his family realise.

“First time killing a beast?” You ask. Finn nods once. “How you feeling about it?” You push.

“Fine.” He replies. You can hear his brothers and cousin in his voice and realise he won’t admit to being anything but.

“Well, you’re well on your way to official manhood.” You compliment him.

“Can you say that a bit louder, so Tommy and Arthur can hear you?” He snaps. You pat his shoulder “I’ll be an old man before they, or Polly, let me do anything.” He sighs.

“They’re just trying to protect you.” You reply.

“I’m a fucking Shelby.” He groans “And you know more about this family than I do. They treat me like Charlie.” He sulks.

“The world is a hard place Finn, and they are trying to keep you from that for as long as possible.”

“Argh, not you too.” Finn cries walking away from you.

“Finn,” you catch his sleeve “Yes, you’re right, me too. Because I’m just like Tommy and Arthur and Michael and John and Polly. I’ve seen and done things I wish I hadn’t, and I would do just about anything to keep you from having to go through that.” You pat his face affectionately. Finn nods and begins to walk again, waiting for you to fall in beside him. You smile to yourself, he really is a sweet boy.

The mist is still thick on the ground as you walk along and you wonder how long it will take to lift. “George?” Finn asks.

“Yeah?”

“Did you mean what you said last night about the girls?” he asks quietly.

You pop a cigarette in your mouth. “What in particular?”

“The stuff about the tongues.” He clarifies his voice squeaking.

You’re glad that the buck is blocking his view of your grin “Are you asking if it’s something I do to girls or if it’s something girls like?” you ask blowing smoke out in a thin stream.

Finn shrugs awkwardly “Forget it.”

“No, you don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s good that you’re curious.” Finn looks at you, eyebrows nearly meeting his hairline. You laugh. “Well, have you done anything with any girls yet? I mean if you like girls, that is.”

Finn just about glows in the mist. “I’ve kissed a girl.” He mumbles.

“Tongues?”

“Jesus. Yes.” Finn growls starting to walk again.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was a bit awkward at first.”

You nod “Did she like it?”

“I think so.”

You can see the vague shapes of the caravans and hear the rumble of men’s voices. You stop. “Finn my advice is; don’t think, ask. There is nothing sexier than a man who wants to pleasure the woman he’s with.”

Finn nods slowly. “So the tongue thing is good for that?” he asks hopefully.

You laugh “Yes Finn it is, and I tell you what when you and your girl are ready for that, I’ll tell you all about it. But just not around this lot. Okay?” You finish with a wink.

“Okay.” Finn agrees grinning, walking away again. You begin to follow him, you can see the outline of Charlie running around with Tommy’s much larger shadow hunched down chasing him. You notice a shadow moving in the mist next to the caravan closest to you, seemingly crouching. You watch closely. A breeze blows from behind you moving the mist, clearing the path in front of you. Finn turns to face you again “So you and the girls?” He asks cheekily.

You’re not paying any attention to what he says though as the mist moves around the caravan revealing a man with a gun, he raises his arm, you follow it and realise it’s aimed at Charlie.  _Charlie!_ Your brain screams. You shove Finn in the back, knocking him on his back and out of your line of sight, the rifle to your shoulder in the next heartbeat, your magazine still full you fire off two shots in quick succession. The man drops. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tommy grabbing Charlie pulling him to his chest as he dives to the ground. Finn’s muffled curses rise up from your feet. You jump over him running towards the caravan, heart in your throat. 

Panic blinds you to everything except the crumpled mass on the ground,  _please don’t be John, please don’t be Arthur, please don’t be Michael_  you pray silently as you flip him over. He’s missing half his face,  _please don’t be John, please don’t be Arthur, please don’t be Michael._ You look around you desperately trying to make sure you haven’t shot someone by mistake.

“What the Fuck?” You’re surrounded by first John, then Michael and then Arthur.

“He was going to shoot them.” You manage your heart nearly bursting with relief that you hadn’t shot any of them by mistake. The men quickly spread out.

Tommy appears in front of you Charlie pressed to his chest so he can’t see the man at your feet. “Was there only one?” He asks

“I don’t know, I only saw one.”

Tommy pulls you towards the caravan, you stumble over the man. He pulls the rifle from your hand and pushes his handgun into it as a replacement. “Get in and don’t come out until we tell you.” You climb up and he hands you Charlie, before he disappears into the mist yelling instructions at the others. You hold Charlie tightly to your chest.

\---------------

You sit in one of the lounge chairs in Tommy’s office back at the house, a glass of whiskey hanging perilously from your fingers. John and Arthur had left immediately on returning to check on their own families. Michael and Finn had left soon after, carrying with them a string of barked instructions from Tommy. Charlie was with Mary elsewhere in the house.

Tommy was on the phone, collar undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows, pacing as far as the cable would allow, and glaring out the window into the fading twilight.  You could see the tension coiled in his back and shoulders, he was spitting expletives at whoever was on the other end, but you couldn’t follow the conversation. You wonder absently if Tommy had ever had a massage and how much he would probably benefit from one. Before you mind returns to its current fixation. _They tried to kill Charlie because of you. They had found you, and they had tried to kill Charlie. Because of you._  Tommy slams the phone down and lights another cigarette, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhales forcefully at the ceiling. The phone rings, and he snaps it up again.  _Charlie was nearly killed because of you_.

It’s a short call this time. Tommy hangs up and comes and sits across from you. “Right then.” He begins, you try to focus. He looks tired. “It wasn’t a planned hit. Just some idiot punter who thought Arthur owed him a few pounds. Apparently, he’s been mouthing off at the local about it for a couple of days, and when he heard we were down here, he decided to try and threaten us into giving him the money. Stupid cunt.” Tommy shook his head “So there’ll be no retribution, nothing coming of this. The police are sorted, so you’re safe.”

“Are you sure?” you ask quietly.

“Yes. Everything is sorted.” Tommy replies irritably.

You shake your head “Are you sure that he was a disgruntled punter, not someone else?”

Tommy leans forward, elbows on his knees “Why? Are you aware of someone else trying to kill my son?” He asks his voice cold and dangerous.

“No.” You sigh, you hate lying to Tommy.  _Well not lying your brain tries to justify. Omission is lying you remind yourself._ You finish the last of your whiskey. Tommy takes the glass from your fingers, crossing the room to refill it before returning it to you. “Thanks.” You say.

Tommy doesn’t move, but stays standing in front of you “You ever killed someone before?” He asks, his voice softer than normal, his eyes, as normal, hold yours. You close your eyes, you feel like he can see into your soul and you don’t want him there.

“Yes.” You reply putting a cigarette between your lips, rolling it between them before reaching into your pocket for your lighter. You hear Tommy light his, and open your eyes a fraction as you put the tip into the flame, taking a long drag.  You exhale, pulling a piece of loose tobacco from between your lips. You rest your head back on the chair. You feel the floorboards beneath your feet move, and the chair across from you sigh as Tommy sits across from you again.

“Who?” He asks. You open your eyes. His posture mirrors your own, head back, arms hanging off the side of the chair, glass in one hand, cigarette clamped firmly between his lips.

“You first.” You say, watching him intently.

“Pardon?” He asks you, his tone incredulous.

You lean forward, legs spread, elbows on knees mimicking his earlier posture “You first Mr Shelby. Who’ve you killed?” Holding him in your own hard stare.

Tommy stands and crosses to the window, “My wife.” He replies quietly, his tone flat.

“My father.” You reply, sinking back into your chair.

Tommy turns towards you. He stops before he reaches you, responding to the knock at the door “Excuse me, Mr Shelby.” Mary steps into the room. “Charlie is in bed, waiting for you to say goodnight.” Tommy nods and Mary retreats. He turns his eyes to yours, you nod silently agreeing to stay, resting your head back again as he leaves the room.  

You close your eyes while you wait for Tommy to come back, hearing the door open, you glance over your shoulder seeing its Tommy you lie back again. “Mary has made us a light supper,” he begins talking to the back of your head, he steps into your line of sight holding a long evening gown, “I thought you might like to wear this.” He holds it out towards you.

Your eyes move from him to the dress and back again. “Why?” You ask.

“There’s no one here to see you, everyone who works here is loyal to me,” Tommy replies voice smooth and reassuring. A tone you’re sure has caused many a panty to drop to the floor.

You stand, finishing your drink before carefully placing the glass down on the table next to you. You move closer to Tommy, placing your palm on his chest, you lean in closer a whisper of a smile on your lips “Loyal to you, but not to me.” You whisper coldly.

“But,” Tommy stammers, you smile to yourself, enjoying seeing him uncomfortable.

“We have an agreement, Mr Shelby, I would appreciate it if you held up your end of the bargain.” You continue holding Tommy’s angry stare and keeping your voice level.

There is another knock on the door “Come.” Tommy replies, not looking away from you. You step back from him and turn, so you are facing the door.

“Supper is ready Mr Shelby,” Mary announces.

You step towards Mary before Tommy can speak “Thank you for your efforts, Mary. I’m sorry to put you out, but I think I’d rather just go to bed. Would you be so kind as to show me to my room?” You smile at her broadly, placing your hand on her lower back and guiding her from the room.  

“Of course, um, ah,” Mary hesitates before saying your name

“George, Mary, just call me George.” You say as you leave the room, pulling the door shut behind you.

\----------------

You wake late, judging by the sun streaming around the drapes. You don’t feel like you have slept at all. Your brain spent the evening gnawing at the old bone of the life you left behind in Camden and how much of it was left and could be looking for you. You had risen a number of times during the night to go and confess all to Tommy. He had weakened your commitment to your plan with that damn dress. Again and again though your stubbornness, pride really, it was his dead wife’s fucking dress, after all, reared its head. You would fix it yourself you didn’t want to owe Tommy a fucking thing. You knew Tommy was a man who wouldn’t be denied what he wanted when a debt was owed.  

Charlie’s giggles float through the door. You smile and roll over. Eye instantly drawn to the suit hanging behind the door. One of Tommy’s. You glide across to it as if on a string, burying your face in the scent so familiar it feels like your own. You sigh as your pulse quickens and your stomach and lower tingle. You shake your head,  _fucking gagging for it_  your mind mocks. You change quickly and head downstairs, you run into Mary and Charlie just outside Tommy’s office. “Good morning George.” She greets you warmly.

“Morning Mary.” You silently thank god for her unintentional reminder of who you are. Who you need to be.

“’Orge!” Charlie greets you happily clapping his hands together. You smile and wiggle your fingers at him in greeting.

“I was just coming to wake you.” She continues “Breakfast is in Mr Shelby’s office.” She nods toward the door.

“Thank you, Mary.”

You stop outside the office door. You can hear Tommy on the phone. You hesitate for a moment and decide it’s better to wait. You lean against the wall, shoving your hands into the pockets of the jacket. There’s something in there. You pull it out, its Tommy’s cap, you shrug surprised he’s left it. You hear Tommy ring off, you knock on the door opening it cautiously. Tommy turns towards the noise. “Breakfast,” he says pointing in the direction of the table.

“Thanks” you reply slipping through the gap and taking a seat. Tommy shuffles some paper on his desk before coming and sitting across from you, spreading more paper out in front of him.

“You can go back home after breakfast. Take one of the cars.” Tommy instructs not looking up from his paperwork.

"Alright.” You reply, wondering if you should even mention last night. You spread butter and jam on your toast and chew in silence. Tommy’s food sits in front of him, untouched. He appears engrossed in his paperwork, but every time you look around the large room, you can feel his eyes upon you. Finished eating and unable to think of any reason to stay you finish the last of your tea, watching Tommy over the lip of the cup. “I’ll be off then.” You say as you stand.

“Just leave the car at the factory,” Tommy instructs.

“I’ll leave the suit too.” You say, Tommy grunts.  “You left your cap in the pocket.” You put in on the smooth surface of the table and push it towards him.

“It’s not mine.” He says plopping his on the table next to the one under your hand, still not lifting his eyes from his paperwork.

“Oh, okay.” You turn to leave

“It’s yours,” Tommy says holding the one from your pocket out towards you.

“Oh.” You manage hands remaining at your side.  

Tommy rubs his hand across his forehead, before reaching for a cigarette. “Are you refusing the cap?” he asks with a weary sigh.

“Refusing?”

Tommy stands, fists pressed into the table, his eyes flashing under his thick eyelashes “The cap is yours. You’ve earned it.” You look at him, eyes wide in disbelief. He grabs the cap off the table and flicks it open, before slapping it onto your head “Welcome to the Peaky fucking Blinders.” You don’t move, looking up at him. Tommy watches you intently.

“What?” you finally ask.

“Well do you accept or not?” He asks tersely

You pause for a second considering what this means, wondering if you are willing to commit to a lifetime of hiding in plain sight. In a life just as dangerous, if not more so than the one you were running from. “Yes.” You decide. Tommy looks visibly relieved, unable to resist tormenting him you give him a wink “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Tommy rolls his eyes “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”


End file.
